


my mouth gets me in trouble all the time

by Florchis



Category: Boy Meets World
Genre: Couch Sex, First Time, Fluff and Smut, Friends to Lovers, Getting Together, Kissing, Multi, Polyamory Negotiations, Threesome, Threesome - F/M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-10
Updated: 2020-01-10
Packaged: 2021-02-27 07:01:37
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,520
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22192960
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Florchis/pseuds/Florchis
Summary: When Shawn comes bearing gifts on the eve of Cory and Topanga's wedding anniversary, he wasn't planning on kissing Topanga in front of Cory. Much less was he planning on Cory telling him to keep going.Things can only escalate from there.
Relationships: Shawn Hunter/Topanga Lawrence-Matthews/Cory Matthews
Comments: 22
Kudos: 101





	my mouth gets me in trouble all the time

**Author's Note:**

> This was supposed to be a "Topanga and Shawn perform for Cory" fic, but Cory wouldn't let himself just sit back and enjoy, so. Things happened.

As it usually happens, the problem is that Shawn Hunter can't keep his big, fat mouth shut.

Tomorrow is Cory and Topanga’s second wedding anniversary and Shawn knows for a fact that those morons are not doing anything because they couldn’t settle on something perfect enough. They are that dense. Of course, Shawn has come to the rescue armed with champagne and chocolates and a box of strawberry daiquiri condoms, because, one, he doesn’t know if Topanga is on the pill but he knows he is too young to be an uncle and, two, because it is hilarious. 

It had all been worth it just to see Cory blush beet red.

He walked along the delicate line between being funny and being inappropriate with composure if he can say so himself, and all would have been very peachy if it weren’t for his  _ damn mouth. _

He has given Cory one of their infamous handshakes with an extra wink-wink-nudge-nudge for good measure, and he is giving Topanga a last hug before getting the hell outta here. They have had a glass of wine each and she is adorably short in his arms, and the situation has been charged to the sexual side of things with his presents and… truth be told, he is Shawn Hunter and he doesn’t know how to charm himself off. 

"You know, babe, if there wasn't a Cory, you and me, we would have totally been a thing."

Ever since Cory went borderline psychotic because of The Kiss We Do Not Talk About during freshman year, Topanga and he play this game to try to rile him up every once in a while. Topanga has confided in him that the small spark of jealousy in Cory usually leads to great sex, and Shawn is more than happy to oblige when it comes to doing his part in keeping his friends’ sex life happy and healthy. He will even be calling it an anniversary gift. 

"No contest," she replies, fierce and sure, and it was meant to be a joke, but nobody is laughing. His intention was not to be inappropriate, not with his best friend’s wife and one of his closest friends herself, but his heart is full to the brim with love for her, for him, for them that he can only lean down and kiss her on the corner of her mouth. 

It could have been nothing, just a small jab in the jealous side of his best friend, but Topanga- daring, brave,  _ mad  _ Topanga- moves her face to the side and slots her mouth fully against his at the last second. It’s just a chaste press of lips, nothing serious, but Shawn’s first thought is to the unbelievable softness of her mouth.

His second one is that Cory is going to fucking  _ murder  _ him. 

He was ready for Cory to freak out when they pull apart, him already with an appeasing comeback in the tip of his tongue and prepared to push Topanga apart like her body is burning him. He wasn’t ready for Topanga’s fingers to tighten their grip on his waist and for Cory’s voice to come out dark and rough.

“But there is a Cory.” Shawn gapes, unable to believe what he is hearing. He is looking Cory in the eyes, and he doesn’t look mad, but agitated; it’s weird to be focusing on him when he can feel Topanga’s breasts pressed against his ribs and the hair at the top of her head tickling his jaw. It’s weird, but not wrong weird, just…  _ weird  _ weird. Cory’s pupils are dilated and they make a small ember set aflame at the bottom of Shawn’s gut. “There _ is  _ a Cory, and this Cory doesn’t mind.”

Topanga chooses that moment to ease her fingers under Shawn’s shirt and undershirt, her skin cool against his wine-warmed one, and his breath gets caught in his throat. She is not scandalized by Cory’s implication, which means they have talked about this, about  _ him and Topanga, _ or about him, period, and that is fucking terrifying but also really  _ really  _ hot.

“It’s not enough to not mind.” He doesn’t have an agenda, not really, but Topanga is warm and real in his arms, and he feels compelled to get Cory to keep looking at him with that hunger for as long as possible. His hands are idle on Topanga’s back, playing with the bracelets of her bra under her blouse; he is being led by instinct more than by rational thought, and it might just be the wine’s fault, but he feels a bit like he is eighteen again: unhinged, jarred at the edges, needy and so awfully turned on. “She is your wife, Cor.”

Cory settles himself more comfortably on the couch, one arm over the back of it and the other over his lap, and Shawn’s cheeks heat up like he got closer. 

“And you are my best friend.” He takes his time, clearly enjoying the fact that both Shawn and Topanga are hanging onto his every word, he even stops talking for a second to run his foot up Topanga’s ankle playfully. She shivers in Shawn’s arms, and the temperature of the room escalates a handful of degrees. “Don’t you think she is lovely, Shawnie?”

What kind of question is that?

“She is.” Shawn looks down at her. He was sixteen when he first allowed himself to accept that his best friend’s girl was pretty, but he remembers that moment with stark clarity now that she is between his arms, face flushed and lips invitingly open. During the time between then and now he has learned to love her as a person and as a friend, and though it has always been platonic, when you add affection and closeness and physical attraction, there are not many results you can get. “She is gorgeous, and sexy, and  _ yours.” _

Cory is now playing with his glass of wine, and Shawn wonders when did he learn to be so calm and collected, or at least pretend he is. 

“She is. She is also free, and I think she would like for you to not chicken out and give her a proper kiss.”

So they  _ have  _ talked about him. 

His eyes fix down on Topanga: she is making an adorable pucker, and he didn’t come here with any intention to kiss her, but she is making it very hard to pretend he doesn’t  _ want  _ to kiss her. 

“Would you please stop talking about me like I’m not even here?” Being chastised by Topanga is good, is something safe, something he can use to hold onto to jump into the new waters that Cory is laying ahead of him. She punches him in the arm and immediately after starts rubbing the spot soothingly. They haven’t broken the hug ever since he unleashed this fine mess, and the realization makes his heart climb up his throat. “I think I should get a vote here.”

Cory leans closer then, his elbows in his thighs, and one of Topanga’s hands goes to the side of his neck like second nature.

“Of course you do, honey. You know we only do here what you want, anyways.” He catches Topanga’s thumb, that was rubbing his cheek, and gives a kiss to its knuckle. “But Shawnie here sure looks like he wants it, and I know for a fact that you do, too.”

Shawn pants; he feels lighthearted, and Topanga’s body against his is too much and not enough all at once. She is looking at him now, face serious and open, and Shawn owes it to her- to them- to be honest.

“What do you have to say to that, Hunter?”

Truth is, he doesn’t have a linear, simple reply to that. Because Topanga is attractive, and he has always been weak to a pretty face and nice curves. But Topanga and Cory have been Cory-and-Topanga even since he met them, and he doesn’t know how to begin to process them as separate entities. Something inside his mind is screaming  _ it’s a trap! _ , and he can’t jeopardize something as precious as his friendships with them for something as flimsy as a kiss.

They seem to sense his indecision, and Topanga pulls him down on the couch, where he ends up pressed between them, her hands still clutching his shirt, Cory’s arm around his shoulders.

“Shawnie,” Cory begins, and it’s not until he hears his affectionate voice that Shawn realizes he had begun to hyperventilate. “You know we love you, don’t you?”

That’s at least something he can count on. 

“I do.”

Topanga smiles; she is playing footsie with Cory under the couch, and Shawn wonders how can she look so calm when there is a storm cooking inside him.

“I also like you.” There is something in the way she says it that makes Shawn think that she is saying ‘I’ where she means ‘we’, but maybe that’s just the way Topanga as in Topanga-and-Cory speaks. “Like  _ like  _ you.”

Shawn looks at Cory from the corner of his eyes. Once upon a time, it would have sent Cory into a frenzy just to think that Topanga could be interested in Shawn- in fact, it once did. It’s a sign of maturity that he is now taking it in stride, and almost with interest. Still, he needs to be sure he is on firm ground if he is to move forward in any direction.

“Cor, I-”

“Tell me you don’t like her,” Cory interrupts him, and Shawn can not lie to him, especially not when Topanga is looking at him with lust-filled eyes.

“I plead the fifth.”

Topanga chuckles and runs her fingers through his hair, and Shawn about  _ melts. _

“Cory.”

“Yes, yes, wifey, I know.” Shawn lets out an estranged sound when Cory hugs him from the back suddenly; his best friend has always been touchy-feely, but he wasn’t expecting such show of affection when discussing this particular topic. “Shawn, dear, I promise that whatever happens now, as long as we all agree and consent, won’t affect our relationship in the slightest. Not this marriage and not any of these friendships.”

“Okay.” There is a knot in his throat, half anticipation and half repressed emotions, and he would like to say that all this sensitive talk is kind of a turn-off, but the truth is that the moment Topanga takes his hand again, he feels ready to jump out of his skin. She is looking at him with bright eyes, and his mouth goes dry. “What are your intentions with me, Topanga?” He meant for it to come out as a joke, but his voice breaks in the middle, and he is sure they both can hear his desperation. 

Topanga scoots closer, and Cory rubs his shoulder, and how do they manage to make him go spineless, boneless, a pliable well of desire in their hands, he will never know. “Give me a kiss and then we will see.”

Shawn opens his mouth, but he has nothing to say, not really. Instead, he leans down and kisses her. 

It’s not the first time they kiss, even without counting the chaste peck a couple of minutes ago. There has been also The Kiss We Do Not Talk About, of course, but all the passion Cory thought he saw there was just for show. Shawn almost tells him that kiss was nothing compared to the real thing, but he is too busy with Topanga kissing the life out of him.

For a long time, he hadn’t been able to kiss anyone without the ghost of Angela looming over him like a curse. He would kiss a pretty girl and be disappointed when he opened his eyes and it wasn’t Angela looking up at him with that soft look on her face he loved so much. But not this time. Maybe because it’s Topanga, and Topanga is ingrained in his life and his system almost as much as Angela had been. Maybe because he is, finally, ready to fly away and above the remembrance of the girl that got away.

He places his hands on Topanga’s cheeks and kisses her with all that he got. He got a reputation on his kissing technique alone during high school, and that is the kind of thing that ages like fine wine. Topanga is not holding back either, and if he was immediately sold at first by the smoothness of her lips, there are great things to be said about how she kisses the exact same way that she lives: persistently, meticulously, passionately.

He almost forgot about Cory for a second until he feels his fingers at his neck. Panic rises for a second in his trachea, because he doesn’t think he will straight up strangle him, but Cory has always gone to unexpected lengths when Topanga was involved. But his best friend made a promise to him, and the moment Cory’s fingers start stroking his jaw, Shawn moans and pushes his tongue inside Topanga’s mouth.

Things escalate quickly after that. Shawn doesn’t feel in control of his own body, and that could be terrifying but in this case, it’s liberating. His hands move out of instinct and desire, and the moment Topanga climbs onto his lap it’s like she was always meant to fit perfectly there. Shawn moves his mouth from her lips to her cheek, her jaw, her neck, her collarbone, pushing the flimsy material of her blouse away with his nose. Cory’s hand has moved from his neck to the nape of his head, and instead of tugging him away like maybe Shawn would have expected, he is gently guiding him, taking him to discover the most sensitive spots in his journey over Topanga’s body. It’s a feverish cocktail and by the time Topanga’s blouse is down her shoulder, leaving half her chest exposed, and she is grinding rhythmically against his undeniable erection, Shawn breaks apart, gasping for air.

Topanga looks positively debauched, lipstick smeared and eyes hooded, and though he puts distance between their faces, Shawn tightens his hold on her waist, pressing their chests closer together. Topanga licks her lips in between gasps, and Shawn follows the movement of her tongue with hungry eyes. She looks good enough to eat, and he is not even being lyrical.

Cory’s hand on his head has moved to his jaw, and Shawn lets Cory tilt it to the side to face him. He is a bit uneasy about what he might find in his best friend’s face, but Cory is breathing almost as hard as Topanga, pupils blown wide. His thumb catches in Shawn’s lower lip, and Topanga moans.

“May I?” Cory asks, rough, and Shawn doesn’t know what he is asking but he nods nonetheless. He will always say yes to him. Cory kisses him, gentle at first but then following the taste of Topanga in his mouth with persistence, and Shawn’s brain short circuits. 

It's not the first time they kiss- you don't go being someone’s best friend for fifteen years without kissing at least once- but this time feels different. This time is heavy and intentional and it fills Shawn’s guts with want. Maybe because Topanga is tugging at her nipples on his lap while she watches them hungrily, maybe because Cory’s hands are big and so so right on his cheeks, maybe because they are older but definitely not wiser, maybe because he wants wants wants this, but this time it feels  _ real.  _ He feels like his heart will float out of his chest from the pace of its beating alone. 

“Cory, shit, fuck.” 

“Sounds about right.” Cory laughs, and Shawn doesn’t find anything funny about this situation, but he laughs too, almost hysterical. Cory holds his face tenderly until Shawn stops laughing. “You holding up okay, buddy?”

“Yeah, yeah, I think so.” He is finally more or less keeping his breathing under control, and feels a bit more tethered to the couch and to them. “What  _ happened  _ to you guys, though? Because  _ damn.” _

“Do you want the long story or the short story?” 

Topanga tugs on his chain necklace to get him closer to her again, and Shawn looks from one to the other, going dizzy with wanting them both. When Topanga starts nibbling gently at his jaw and up up up to his ear, he can only stutter, “The short story will do for now.”

“I had a dream about you, once,” she mutters hotly in his ear, and Shawn shivers. “A  _ dream, _ if you get what I mean. And Cory went insane about it for a while, until he let it slip that he also had had dreams about you over the years.  _ Dreams  _ dreams.” Shawn hides his face in her neck then, unable to hold up his head much longer. “And we realized… what was the point of denying it, if we both loved and wanted you? If you wanted us too, of course.” Her hand snakes down his chest with tantalizing fingers, and though the path was obvious, Shawn still gasps when she boldly grabs his erection. “And I think you do.”

His eyelids flutter while Topanga strokes him up and down, fighting his need to send his brain into the backseat and just enjoy; to take off a bit of the pressure, he looks at Cory, though the smirk he sends his way is trembling. 

“So you had dreams about me, Cor?” he teases.

Cory rolls his eyes, but it’s good-natured.

“You already know you are attractive, you jerk.” His eyes are now fixed to the point where Topanga is driving Shawn to madness with a teasing touch, and he licks his lips. “And, full disclosure, I dreamed about us, yes, but mostly I dreamed about you two. Probably the hottest fantasy my brain was able to conjure.”

Shawn swears under his breath, both from Cory’s statement and from Topanga upping the pressure of her hand. It all feels surrealist, and that spurs him on to keep on prodding Cory.

“Yeah? And what we did in those dreams?”

Cory’s reply is pure air and lust. “Everything.”

Shawn tilts Topanga’s face to his. She is but a storm of hair and tempting lips, and Shawn leans closer to bite and gently tug her lower lip towards him. He lets it go with a pop, and her nostrils flare with anticipation.

“Like this?” Cory nods, and Shawn shamelessly glances at his lap to check if this is working for  _ him, _ and boy, what he finds is seriously hot. He already knew that being liked was a potent aphrodisiac, but he had no idea it could be like this. “Use your big boy words, Cory.” He feels emboldened by his stuttering and turns towards Topanga again, stroking the side of her ribs. “Can I take off your top, babe?”

She does a little sway, and the movement makes her thighs rub harder against Shawn’s groin, making stars appearing behind his eyelids. 

“I thought you’d never ask.” She is all an inviting line, her arms raised in the air, and Shawn tries to take it off in a smooth movement, but the cloth catches in her breasts, and by the time she is topless they are both breathless and giddy. He strokes a finger down her sternum from the hollow of her throat, his hands idle with newfound skin, and lets his thumb catch on the little bow exactly in the middle of her bra. She tugs on his necklace again as retaliation. “Cory.”

Shawn frowns and almost tells her that she is messing them up, but Cory interrupts him, clearly understanding what she is asking of him. 

“Take off your shirt, Shawn. Feel her skin against yours.”

Topanga sends a blinding smile his way.

“Thank you, husband.”

“Anytime, honey.”

Shawn pouts. “You can ask me what you want, you know.”

“But I know that you can’t say no to him, so it’s easier this way.” She is teasing him, he knows, but he loves it. “Let me undress you, then.”

She is not gentle in the way she unbuttons his shirt and removes his undershirt, more like goal-oriented, and Shawn can’t say he doesn’t enjoy it: both seeing her being the way she is about everything else, that is beautiful and inspiring, and also being the object of her interest, something he is quickly learning he can’t have enough of.

It’s not the first time they are topless with each other, either. They have gone to pools and beaches together, and there has been that memorable time when Eric got all of them stranded in a minivan needing to change clothes to perform for a musical number, but it’s different now that it’s intentional, now that nudity is not a mean but an end. Her skin feels cool against his feverish one, and he looks to the side at Cory just to test if he is capable of taking his eyes apart from the hard nipples that are poking through the cups of her bra.

“You got any more dream material, buddy?” His voice breaks at the end when Topanga places her mouth delicately on top of his collarbone and then bits him. Hard. 

Cory makes a vague gesture. Sometime along this fall down the rabbit hole, Cory had opened the first buttons of his own shirt, and Shawn feels a strange urge to push apart with his nose the flaps of that shirt and lick all the skin he can find underneath. But he has a lap full of Topanga and also Cory has somehow asked them to perform for him, and Shawn would hate to disappoint either of them. There will be time later for more, he hopes. 

“You seem to be managing just fine with ideas of your own.”

Shawn focuses back on Topanga then, who is demanding his attention by going vampiric on his neck and shoulders, peppering him with small and not so small nibbles that she soothes after with the flat of her tongue. His skin feels chilly where she has left it moist, and his cock throbs painfully inside his pants. It is time to go bolder. 

So far he has been ignoring sort of successfully the skirt that is bunched up in the mid of her thighs. But she is not playing games with trying to find the most sensitive spots on him, and two can play  _ that  _ game. He grabs her knees, and pushes her closer to his own knees and apart from his chest. Topanga looks at him with surprise in her eyes, but Shawn only smirks before pushing her skirt with the heel of his palm all the way up to her hip; after all, half the fun of them doing this is that Cory gets to see it. She is wearing black cotton panties, and when Shawn strokes his thumb lightly against the tiny slip of cloth at the center, she curses. It’s a delightful thing to be able to make composed, proper Topanga lose control, and he dodges her attempts to get him into another kiss. Shawn looks at Cory from the corner of his eyes and he immediately knows that he will be backed up in doing whatever it takes to make her do those sounds again.

Success makes him bolder, and he embraces her snug against him. Topanga gasps in surprise when he uses her hold on her to reverse their position and throw her down on the couch. Cory doesn’t waste a second on getting hold of her wrists and pinning them against his own legs. Shawn could high five him if he weren’t busy holding Topanga’s knees in between his hips.

“What are you doing?” She is pouting again, but her writhing is just for show.

Shawn pretends he did not hear her and looks straight to Cory when he asks, “Got any ideas now, buddy?”

“Oh, I got plenty.” Cory grabs both her wrists in one of his hands, and strokes her cheek with his recently freed one. Topanga reacts like a cat to the caress, pushing her cheek against Cory’s hand, and Shawn’s heart fills with tenderness. “But something tells me you have a couple of your own, Shawnie.”

“I do.”

“Delights us, please.”

Shawn crawls in between Topanga’s open legs to where she is reclined on Cory’s legs and chest. He gives her a kiss long and luscious, full of all the passion he can muster and leaves her trembling when they break apart. He hesitates for a second but finally decides to go for a more tender kiss with Cory, who kisses him back with sweetness and conviction. On his way down Topanga’s body, he drags her skirt off with him.

They must make an interesting picture, Cory fully dressed holding down Topanga, only in her underwear, Shawn topless between her legs running his fingernails up and down her thighs. It’s a precarious equilibrium of things, and he knows it’s bound to break. He was hoping that Topanga would be the one to break it, but it’s still satisfactory when she looks at him with desperate eyes. 

“Please.”

“Please, what, darling?” he teases her, his thumb catching on the edge of her panties, and Cory snorts.

“Please, Shawn.” It’s not the reply he was waiting for, he was hoping on her being explicit about what she wants, but the use of his name  _ breaks  _ him.

He kneels down on the floor, and both Topanga and Cory shift their positions to allow him to still be sinfully close to both of them, Topanga sitting on Cory’s lap, both their legs facing Shawn on the floor. 

He feels  _ right  _ for a second, on his knees to serve them, but the point of all this is to make  _ them  _ feel right, and Shawn pushes the sentimentality to the back of his brain at the same time that he pushes Topanga’s knees to the side. Her legs are strong, and while Shawn moves his mouth slowly from knee to hip, she places her ankle behind his head. She has the potential for being quite bendy, it seems, and Shawn fantasizes a little with being the one to help her push that ability to its peak. He nuzzles the center of her core with his nose and raises his head to gather her reaction. Cory is whispering hotly in her ear and that makes him feel self-conscious and out of place for a millisecond, but Topanga’s eyes, firmly fixed on him, hungry and so very loving, tether him back to reality, shooing the panic away.

“Shawn,” she calls again, and it’s unfair how she makes a symphony out of his name, encompassing all the possible lows and all the possible highs. “Stop teasing me.”

There is a heavy knot settling between his lungs, all the love he holds for both of them laced with the fear of what it is to come and his familiarity with rejection and loneliness, but Shawn breathes in and out and pushes it down to the bottom of his ribcage. They are having fun, all of them, and he  _ wants  _ this woman and this man, and what damage has been done is done. He can enjoy what they have now and deal with consequences later- or never, which is a Shawn Hunter specialty.

He starts rubbing slow circles over Topanga’s clit, getting her positively drenched in the process. Her breathing is shaky, she is too strung out with the long foreplay, and Shawn takes pity on her arching back and finally takes off her soaked panties. He has been with his fair share of women, but it’s still an experience every time he gets one off her underwear, getting to be close to something so intimate and at the same time so open. For all that everyone says erections can not be hidden, the arousal of women from up close doesn’t lie either.

“Don’t go slow.” Cory’s voice is rasping, and when Shawn looks at him from under his lashes, he finds out that both of them are looking at him intensely. “She is too stimulated already.”

“Cor, she is so wet and I have barely touched her.” They both know that it has always driven Topanga insane when they talk about her like she is not present, but this time she seems to be too focused on wiggling to try to get Shawn to touch her the way she likes- attempts he is playfully dodging- to protest. 

“Fuck, honey.” Cory presses his fingers on Topanga’s shoulders until his knuckles go white, and Shawn thinks about soothing the morning-after bruises on her with his tongue. To reward the alluring image Cory had put in his mind, Shawn moves his fingers away from Topanga- not without a protest on her part- and stretches his arm, palm up, across Topanga’s torso. Cory doesn’t hesitate before taking Shawn’s fingers to his mouth to taste. 

“You two are  _ killing  _ me,” Topanga moans, wanton and desperate, and Shawn chuckles, though he still feels the press of Cory’s tongue from the tip of his fingers to the heels of his feet, and he is feeling pretty desperate himself.

“We can’t have that, babe.”

There is something beautifully simple in the intricacy of using his fingers, wet with Cory’s saliva, to push against Topanga’s entrance. He will think about that later, alone on his bed, about taking a bit of effort from every each of them to make pleasure and love, but now he has more pressing business between his hands- quite literally. Shawn bows his head and gets to work.

He closes his eyes when his lips meet Topanga’s clit, his fingers finally pushing all the way inside her. He can find his way around what she likes better by reacting to sounds, and he is also worried the sight of them both together while he does this might be too overwhelming for him. Topanga places a firm hand on his head, not pushing him but kind of holding him, and Shawn rewards the nice sensation with a trick of his tongue that in turn earns him a twirl of her toes.

He alternates between curling his fingers and sucking on her clit, her legs around his shoulders delimiting this small portion of the world that is all he wants to care about. It’s easy to get lost in this, the salty-sweet taste of her and the hot tightness embracing his fingers and her quickening breathing, it’s easy to chase her release like it were his own, his cock leaking against the rough material of his jeans.

“You want to drag it out, Shawnie,” Cory suggests from over Topanga’s shoulder. He is terribly flushed, and when Shawn follows the line of his body and sees that his cock is protruding from his open zipper and Topanga is using her hand that is not on Shawn’s head to jerk him off, he almost has a heart attack. It’s not the first time Shawn has seen his cock- again, best friends for fifteen years see  _ things _ -, but seeing it in the context of wanting to  _ lick  _ it is a completely different experience, Shawn finds out. “She comes harder when you strung it out.” 

“Cory, your  _ teacher  _ is showing,” Topanga chastises him and makes a twirl with her fist that Shawn knows must feel wonderful just from looking at it. The need on his own cock escalates even further, and he pushes the heel of his hand against his crotch to alleviate the worst of it. 

“Sorry,” Cory apologizes, sheepish, and Shawn and Topanga both laugh. That’s why sex with them is proving to be good: they still can have fun and be friends in the middle of it.

The laughter dies quickly, they are all coiled too tight, Topanga flushed and dripping, Cory rock-hard and angry-red, and Shawn is desperate to see them both come apart. 

“If I may, I think she has been patient enough, Cor.”

“She has,” Topanga says in her shark-lawyer voice, and Shawn rubs his fingers harder against her walls in retaliation. Or reward, he is not exactly sure. 

He quickly realizes getting her off will not be enough, he needs both of them pleased and sated and  _ happy with him. _ He removes his fingers from inside her to use instead of the ones in his left hand- it’s not his smart hand, but it’s fresh instead of worn out from finger fucking her for a while, and at this point speed and strength matter more than dexterity. He places his right one, covered in Topanga’s juices on Cory’s cock, and Cory moans, letting his head fall on the couch. Topanga helps him adjust the tightness and the pace, and Shawn sends her a saucy wink. 

It’s not easy to care for both of them at the same time, but Shawn wouldn't change it for anything; poor Topanga has to settle for Shawn using on her the rhythm she is making him use on Cory, but she doesn’t seem to mind. Topanga’s right hand has moved from the top of his head to his jaw, cradling his face gently even in the middle of passion, and Cory places his big, strong hand on top of both of them around his cock, and they are but a circle of affection and love- even if a dirty one. They are both looking at him and he is looking at them, and Shawn feels like his heart is about to burst. Or that might just be his cock.

Topanga is the first one to fall over the edge- Shawn might have helped her with an enthusiastic rub of his thumb over her clit, guilty as charged-, and her trembling triggers Cory’s orgasm too. Shawn’s both hands are sticky and messy, s cheeks flushed from their praise, and he has never seen anything as erotic as them gasping in each other’s arms. 

He kisses the inside of Topanga’s thigh before letting go of her leg, and only when he stands to go to the bathroom he notices the wet spot on the front of his jeans. He was so focused on their pleasure that he just assumed his own need had taken a back seat for a while, but apparently his cock had jumped on the bandwagon, so to speak. 

He washes his hands slowly and looks at himself for a long time in the bathroom mirror. He was half expecting to see something changed on his features, either from shame or from the epiphany, but the blue eyes that look back at him are his own, tired but clear, and the mouth is his own, even if kiss-swollen and anxious. The love he had for them has not changed: he has only found out a different way to express it.

Shawn puts on his undershirt before going back to the living room. He feels naked without his shirt, but he will need to tie it at his hips to hide the stain on his jeans, so this will have to do. Still, he feels out of place when he goes to face them, with Topanga who has reclaimed her panties but not any of her outer layers, and Cory that has shucked off his trousers and is lazing around in an open shirt and his superhero shorts. They are quietly talking, entwined on the couch, their faces very close together and soft smiles on their lips and Shawn shuffles his weight awkwardly from one foot to the other. Now that the arousal and the alcohol have worn off, what does he say to them? What there is to say to each other? 

Topanga springs to her feet when she sees him, and sways her way to the bathroom. She stops at his side to give him a kiss on the cheek, and Shawn puts a valiant amount of effort into not turning around to stare at the jiggle of her ass. Cory smiles at him from the couch, clearly boneless, and Shawn can’t tell if the clench of his heart comes from pride-  _ I did that to him- _ or from longing-  _ I want to be the one who does that to him. _ He can’t stand the softness of Cory’s eyes, so he bends down to look for his shirt and he frowns when he can’t find it anywhere.

“I better get going.” He tries to sound casual, but it comes out strained instead. There is no actual conviction behind his words, and when Cory pats the couch cushion that still holds the shape of Topanga’s body, Shawn complies.

Cory’s hands are big on his cheeks are grounding, and not being in the throes of passion doesn’t take away how much he likes it. On the contrary, now that Cory is holding him because he wants to and not because his dick is dictating his actions, the intimacy of the gesture gets further under Shawn’s skin.

“Do you have somewhere to be?” he asks, not unkindly, and Shawn shakes his head.

“Not really.” He makes a pause to get his emotions under control; Cory is brushing his cheek with his thumb and it’s fucking disarming. “But you do. In bed with your wife.”

He is not trying to set up boundaries; he is reminding Cory that those boundaries do exist. Cory and Topanga are husband and wife, and they can fool around with Shawn all they want, but they still will be Cory-and-Topanga at the end of the line, while Shawn still will be Shawn. 

“You know, the bed has been looking kind of awfully big as of late.” It’s hard to drag his eyes away from Cory’s, but worth it. Topanga is beaming at them from the bedroom door frame. She has put on Shawn’s shirt on top of her bra, and it’s long on her arms and hips but tight where it matters, and Shawn’s heart skips a beat.

“Don’t trust her, she will invite you into bed and then steal the blankets from under you,” Cory whispers in his ear conspiratorially, but when Topanga summons them with a come-hither finger, Cory stands up like he is following a beacon back home.

He only stops to stretch his arm towards Shawn, hand open, eyes soft.

“This is only the beginning, Shawnie,” he promises, giddy, and then with a raunchier tone and a suggestive lift of his eyebrows, “we haven’t even taken Topanga’s bra off yet.”

Shawn stands up but hesitates. The boundaries are there, even despite everything they have already done tonight: he can see them clear as day, but he can also see that Cory and Topanga are choosing to step over and above them. If they are willing to try that, open and expand the hyphen that has always been Cory-and-Topanga to try to fit him, Shawn can allow them the power to trample his heart, but also to make it soar. 

He takes Cory’s hand and they follow Topanga’s laugh inside the bedroom. He only stops to fetch the strawberry daiquiri condoms, just in case. 

**Author's Note:**

> ... I'm sorry I ruined all of our childhoods?  
> ***  
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